The Curious Case of Sunny Day Aramis
by Makimis
Summary: Aramis and sun don't mix. Period. Inspired by Athos: "Leave the birds alone.." - S01E09
1. Chapter 1

_One. Two. Three. One leg behind. Slowly. Steady. Shallow breaths. One. Two. Three. Lean on your front leg. Slowly. Quietly. One two three. Ensure stability with your left hand. Steady. Shallow breaths. One. Two. Three. Reach out with your right hand. One. Two. Three. AND QUICKLY LASH OUT AND GR-…_

„ARAMIS! What in the bloody hell are you doing?!"

… _JESUS CHRIST! GRAB ONTO SOMETHING! GRAB ONTO SOMETHING! OoooW!_

„Jesus, Athos! Do you want to give me a heart attack?"

At this point, Athos preferred not to answer.

It was three days ago that Captain Tréville ordered all four of them to escort an elderly madame Bouthillier back to her home in Lyon, telling them that he will not be expecting them for the next eight days. The way from Paris to Lyon does not normally take more than two days for experienced horseriders. Three days with a lady being escorted in a cart, leaving them two days of an unspoken but deserved leave after a long-week uneventful guard duty at the Jardin du Roi, the "healing garden" opening festivities.

However, on the morning of this fine day, d'Artagnan, kind soul as he is, had to run his mouth and tell madame Bouthilier that it was o-no trouble to bother them with her passion for flowers because they were indeed not in a hurry and therefore had nothing else to do than to enjoy the beauty of the nature. With that out he proceeded to help the madame out of the cart and join her in her search for a 'special kind of tulip' for her mother-in-law. Never mind that there were no tulips around here. Sometimes, Athos wanted to smack the insane diligence out of the boy's head. There went their two free days.

Despite the change of plans, Athos had to admit that it was a relief to spend a day in the woods near a small lake enjoying a relaxing day. They spent the whole day swimming, catching fish, sparring and cleaning their weapons all while keeping up a comfortable banter, much to madame Bouthilier's amusement. When it was clear that they would not make any progress towards Lyon today anymore and the sun would soon set, Athos decided to gather some wood to start fire for the night.

And that's how he came upon a curios sight. There, in the tree in front of him, high in its top branches was Aramis, quiet as a mouse, moving as slowly as he has never seen him before, reaching out his hand towards something Athos couldn't see.

With his eyebrows high in surprise and concern, Athos watched as Aramis jerked upon hearing his voice asking him about what he was doing, flailed around with both his arms, tried to grab onto a branch but missed, lost his footing and fell a good three branches below while all birds from the nearby trees flew away, spooked. Now heavily breathing, red in the face, with his feet steady on one of the lower branches, Aramis hung onto the trunk of the tree as if his life depended on it.

"I am not even sure I want to know." Athos stated, tilting his head to one side.

"It is those birds, Athos! They will not leave me in peace!" Aramis replied with a hint of despair in his voice.

"And are you feeling quite well in the head?" Athos asked, scrutinizing Aramis from head to toe. "You know what a long exposure to sun does to you…"

"The bastards shit on my hat! Was I supposed to let them get away with it? Sure, dear birds, JUST KEEP ON SHITTING ON STRANGERS' HATS!" He yelled the last part up in the sky as if speaking to the birds and Athos could only rub his temples, trying to calm himself, while the echo _"shitting on strangers' hat, shitting on strangers' hat, strangers' hat"_ rang across the woods, sounding almost peacefully as some kind of twisted lullaby for adults. Adult. Athos had a feeling that Aramis sometimes forgot what that word meant and that it actually applied to him.

"I bet it was because of the feather," Athos decided that it was time to have some fun, too. "You cannot really blame them for wanting to avenge their kind," the edges of his lips moved dangerously up.

"How dare you!" Aramis pointed an accusing finger at Athos, still sounding deadly serious.

"I have been telling you for years that it is, indeed, a shitty feather," Athos pointed out. "Now literally."

Suddenly a cone was flying his way, which he easily avoided. Unfortunately, seemingly from nowhere, Porthos chose to appear behind Athos at that exact moment, getting the cone right in his head.

"What's ha-... OW!"

Offended, Porthos looked angrily in the direction the cone flew from. Seeing Aramis in the conifer, he spread his arms widely: "Are you crazy or what?"

"Are you seriously asking _Aramis_ that question?" Athos rolled his eyes.

Porthos pointed his finger at Athos. "Touché," he looked back at Aramis: "And what's with the shitting? I think you spooked half the forest, madame Bouthilier included."

Aramis held his chin high, trying to grasp onto the last strays of dignity he still had left.

"First of all, I. AM. NOT. CRAZY. Second of all, I was on the mission to catch the ones responsible for damaging the heart of my style in an unmanly manner, when Athos came with his horrid voice, making the trees tremble, which almost resulted into me falling to my death."

There was a silence as Porthos tried to comprehend what he just heard. After a few moments, he looked at Athos with lost expression. Athos sighed.

"The birds shitted on his hat and he was trying to do god knows what to the birds when I came upon him in the tree and asked what he was doing, to which he reacted by getting startled and falling down a few branches," he explained.

"Thank you." Porthos said loudly and turned back to Aramis. "See? This is French."

Athos and Porthos both heard as Aramis mumbled something to himself.

"What was that?" They both asked in unison.

"Nothing."

"Aramis…" Athos used his don't-shit-with-me voice and Aramis knew better than to shit with him.

"I said my French was better," if they didn't know better, they would say that Aramis blushed.

It was Porthos's time to roll his eyes.

"How old are you? Twelve?"

"I refuse to respond to stupid questions," Aramis put his chin even higher.

"Of course, it was a rhetorical question," Porthos retorted.

Athos sighed again. Aramis and sun really didn't make a pleasant combination. As much as Aramis loved summer, there was always risk of him getting influenced by it in this weird way, which resulted in Aramis being hyperactive in the best case scenario, and in the worst…well…

"How long have you been without your hat?" Athos asked and noticed that Aramis looked almost guilty.

"Since I sneezed?"

"Aramis…"

"Dear lord, alright, I haven't worn it the whole day." Aramis admitted and after a moment added: "I'm not feeling too well."

"No, really? You look extremely well and comfortable up that tree." Athos chimed in with his usual level of sarcasm. When Aramis didn't respond to that, both Athos and Porthos became serious in an instant.

"Let's get you down, shall we?" Porthos said as a symbol of peace.

"I would love to say I can manage but I scratched my hand while falling down and it hurts like hell." Aramis admitted softly.

It was a bit scary to see Aramis during his _sunny days_ (as him and Porthos named them) sometimes. It was as if it transformed him into a complete opposite of himself. Aramis rarely asked for help and almost never admitted an injury. That was one of his infuriating as well as amazing qualities. Amazing because it helps him to never lose focus, come what may, and infuriating because as his friend, Athos worries about him and some days it is nearly impossible to tell if he is injured or not.

The _sunny days_ Aramis acted almost like a child. Sometimes it honestly felt like he was dealing with a five-year-old inside the body of an adult man. It was disconcerting because Aramis was the most seasoned soldier in the regiment, not to mention among the deadliest, and to see him suddenly become this carefree person who couldn't help but laugh at situations that weren't funny at all, or pout when he didn't get his way, was confusing to say the least. At the same time, it was also elevating to see him like that, though. Never in his life has Athos seen him so relaxed. Sometimes he thinks that it is because Aramis has been through so much in his life already, that this is his God's way of relieving him of some of the pain. And lord, does he need it!

Together they managed to get Aramis down the tree and take him back to camp, where d'Artagnan was already waiting for them with a pile of wood next to him (apparently, madame Bouthilier was quite experienced camper), about to start a fire. He jumped to his feet the moment he saw them coming.

"Where have you been so long? And Aramis, what happened to your arm? It is not serious, is it?"

Aramis just smiled.

"I'll be fine now that I am here."

D'Artagnan frowned. "What do you mean?" Porthos just waved his hand in a don't-even-ask manner and d'Artagnan made a silent note to ask about it later.

 _BANG!_

All of them startled and reached for their weapons. D'Artagnan looked around and frowned even deeper when the only thing he saw was Aramis sitting calmly against a tree, blowing the smoke away from his pistol, rolling it on his finger and hooking it back onto his belt. He smiled in triumph as he looked at the flock of spooked birds.

"You picked a wrong person to shit on, bastards."

Athos sighed and Porthos rolled his eyes.

D'Artagnan's eyebrows flew to his hairline. _I really NEED TO ask them about what happened in those woods_.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi to everyone reading this! I admit that I am not a ff writer who would post regularly. I have a problem with doing anything regularly. From time to time I just sit down in my own little corner and write a story and because of my bad relationship with regularity, I mostly just write one-shots. But recently I have been getting some nice ideas for this story and reading your amazing reviews and also PMs (Deana! Thank you!) again motivated me to write another chapter. So I apologize to everyone who expected a new chapter or an answer from me and didn't get one (I am a terrible human being who is going to hell) and as a way of saying sorry here is another story (see the rhyme?). Let me know what you think and if you have any ideas for other short stories. Enjoy!

* * *

He was lying on the sandy grass with his hands folded behind his head, legs stretched out so that the waves of the lake smoothly washed over his feet. It was a hot summer day and he was enjoying a moment of peace by himself while his horse rested in the shade of a big willow tree hanging over the lake's shoreline. His normally restless mind was soothed by the familiar sounds of nature. He could hear the birds chirping, squirrels running, woodpecker's knocking, the swan's wings flopping, the leaves rustling and in the distance his father's dogs barking, surely playing around with the poor sheep again and giving a nightmare to their new herder. The farm was just down by the river and buzzing with energy at this time of the day. He was just returning from the market at the local village and couldn't help himself but to stop by the lake and enjoy the only sunny day in a week a bit more. He knew he would have to go back soon otherwise his father would be worried, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Enjoying the sunshine in his face and the cool water on his hot skin, he decided he still had some time to enjoy alone.

He will soon get up.

Just a bit longer…

Just a bit…

*Oooph*

His ears registered a sound that didn't belong to the calming nature he was used to. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt heavy, almost as if he hadn't slept in a week. He tried to bring his left arm from under his head but realized he couldn't move. The comfortable warmth from the sun was slowly transforming into unbearable heat. The stones in the river were scraping against his bare feet although they weren't wet anymore. Instead, he felt something wet and sticky in his right eye.

*Oooph*

*THUD*

There were more sounds getting closer and closer. He tried to open his eyes again but when he managed it, a bright light assaulted him, so he quickly closed them again and decided to concentrate on listening. After a while he was sure he could make out human voices.

"Wha…. re… ing.."

"…top …ramis"

Before he had a chance to think about what _ramis_ meant, there was another thud followed by a groan that resembled a bear's growl. He felt confused and helpless with his inability to see or move. Suddenly he remembered that there was another important physical sense that he hasn't tried yet. He opened his mouth to call out to the only person he could remember - his father - and failed spectacularly. What came out was almost animalistic screech that he would normally feel embarrassed for. He was only now starting to realize how dry his throat felt, almost to a point of pain. A new, much more clear voice appeared so close to his ear that it made his body startle.

"D'Artagnan?"

If he was confused before, he didn't have a name for how he felt now. Why would his father call him by his last name? While the sounds were continuing in a distance, he tried to clear his throat, which was even more painful than he anticipated. He felt a certain amount of pride (along with feeling pathetic of being proud of such small thing) when he managed to whisper: "Papa.."

"Oh d'Artagnan." The voice was much softer now, filled with sorrow and pity and he could finally establish that it wasn't his father speaking.

"D'Artagnan, listen to me. Your father's not here, it's me, Athos." And suddenly everything came surging back. All the memories of past few hours rammed into him like an angry bull. He wasn't at his father's farm, hasn't been in a long time, in fact. He was on his way to Paris from a mission that he was assigned along with Athos to deliver a sealed letter to the duke of Savoy that was too important to be carried by a simple messenger. They were on their way back to Paris with an answer when they were ambushed in the woods not far behind Lyon. He tried to clear his throat again and gather some moisture in his mouth.

"Athos?"

He heard a relieved sigh behind him. Wait a second, behind him?

"Thank lord, you are awake, d'Artagnan. You had us worried."

Finally he managed to open his eyes a little, only to be greeted by a blurry view. He blinked a few times and mentally willed the blur away. He was slowly starting to gain a grasp of reality but couldn't shake the feeling of confusion.

"Us?" He rasped. His gut was telling him that he was missing a piece of information. A vital one. If Athos ever meant to answer his question, it was tuned out by a new set of peculiar sounds followed by a deep voice.

"Is that d'Art? Is he awake? Oooph, bloody hell, would you stop doing that?" Porthos and Aramis! How could he forget? The other half of their quartet received a mission of a similar kind in Nice, meaning that they left together and parted ways before Savoy. They met a few days after that in Grenoble and together started their way back home.

"Where are we? What happened?" He was now fully aware, looking around his surroundings and realized that he was tied back to back to Athos, both in sitting position. They were sitting in the hot sun in the grassy clearing near a small pond that looked very tempting, almost teasing. D'Artagnan couldn't help but lick his dry lips. He looked to his left to see a camp of their captors about thirty metres away. They seemed to have long been settled and not pay them any attention. He moved his head to look to his other side but was hit by a sudden wave of dizziness before he could do so. He laid his head back against Athos's and closed his eyes, willing the world to stop moving.

"Slow moves, d'Artagnan, otherwise we will get a visit from your lunch and that would not be a pleasant meeting in our current situation," he heard Athos say with a typical sarcasm in his voice, although he knew him long enough now to be able to recognize a slight concern among the words.

"Just breathe through it. Your head made its acquaintance with a stone so it will be sore for some time. I believe that being in the sun for so long does not help either, so try not to fall asleep again."

D'Artagnan blinked his eyes open again. "Wasn't sleeping."

It was Porthos who reacted this time. "Sleeping or not, your face is an impressive picture of white blue, purple and red on white canvas so that headache of yours must be pretty bad. With the way sun is turning, you will be-" *THUD* "I swear to god Aramis, if you don't stop, I will smack you in the grass!" *THUMP* "Really? You are giving me no other choice here, mate. Sorry." *THUMP* There was an incoherent mumble before he looked back at d'Artagnan, "anyway, you will be in a shadow from that big oak tree in about an hour I would say. Just hang on, squirt."

Normally, d'Artagnan would pretend being offended by the nickname and demand for Porthos to take it away but right now he didn't even have the energy to think about it. He hasn't even looked at Porthos yet because that would mean moving his head and that felt way too difficult at the moment. Now that he was aware of his surroundings, there was one thing that felt out of sorts and he didn't mean sitting tied up to Athos in a burning sun in his leathers during one of France's worst heat waves in history. No, that was beginning to be his new normal, d'Artagnan decided. The most curious ting about the situation was a fact that the normally most eloquent member of their group hasn't uttered a single word since he woke up. He slowly turned his head to his right and his brows frowned at what he saw.

As expected, Porthos was tied back to back to Aramis but instead of sitting, they were lying on the ground on one side. Aramis lay facing the side further away from d'Artagnan and Athos so they couldn't see him but both could tell that he wasn't moving. D'Artagnan's frown got even bigger.

"Is Aramis alright?"

"He's just sleeping, he's fine," Athos retorted. Porthos gave him a sharp look. "Really? That's what you call fine? He tried to rip my bandana off with his teeth because he thought it was a black mamba!"

"With Aramis, one has to broaden his definition of fine. And remind me, Porthos, why exactly did he think it was a black mamba?"

"I've always called my bandana _black mamma_!" Porthos said defensively.

"Funny, I have never heard you say that."

"That's because I never say it! I only use the nickname in my head, it just slipped this time."

"Wonderful. Please call it bandana next time he wakes up."

D'Artagnan couldn't possibly feel more confused, could he? "What's a black mamba?"

"A bloody snake," Porthos answered.

"You knew that?" D'Artagnan asked bewildered.

"Of course he didn't know that. Aramis did. Apparently he's a zoologist as well," Athos shrugged, or rather did a movement that resembled a shrug (as much as shrug is possible with a tied up body).

"Makes sense," d'Artagnan leaned his head back and although it made sense, he didn't feel any less confused.

"Does it?" D'Artagnan could almost see Athos' left eyebrow rising. This time it was his turn to shrug.

"It's Aramis."

Athos just nodded and Porthos confirmed with "True." After a long pause, d'Artagnan spoke again with his raspy voice: "But why is he asleep? Is he injured?"

"Remember us telling you how a long exposure to sun affects him?" Athos asked.

D'Artagnan was suddenly hit by a very vivid memory of a deadly Aramis, perfectly accurate marksman, shooting at a flock of birds in the forest last summer. When he later that day asked Porthos and Athos (Aramis was already sleeping) what happened in the woods, not only did they recapitulate the events of the day but also fed his imagination with too-hard-to-believe stories of Aramis' encounters with a long stay in sun without his hat. Some involved normal things associated with Aramis like wine and melons, angry husbands, beautiful ladies, bandits and kidnappings or upset abbots and some involved things that were too crazy even for Aramis' standards like being mistaken for the Duke of Aliaga or the one none of them want to talk about, involving a ride on a horse through Paris with complete nakedness. One thing all these stories had in common, was trouble. Trouble and Aramis were old friends.

"Sunny day Aramis? Of course I remember, it's not something you hear everyday."

Porthos nodded affirmatively.

"Well the thing is that he has been in this bloody sun for hours now because he lost his hat during the fight. He always gets very restless at first, overly active, you could say and that's where things go crazy. Then his body can't stand it anymore and it shuts down, completely exhausted. So right now he's taking a nap only to wake up disoriented but rested, meaning super restless again. Last time I had to smack us to the ground in order to stop him from thrashing and biting my ear off. Athos, have you noticed that in most of these incidents, animals are always involved in some away?"

"Hm, that is true," Athos responded, deep in thought. "Hopefully he won't think he's tied to a bear next time he wakes up."

"Oh, you're funny! Heard that, squirt? He can be funny!"

D'Artagnan smiled at his friends' banter and wiggled his toes to get some feeling into them. Another realization hit him.

"Um, gentlemen, why am I barefoot?"

This time it was Athos who answered. "All of us are. You see, when we were attacked and you fell unconscious, they used you as a leverage to get to us, pointing a gun to your head." D'Artagnan felt a bit ashamed but Athos being Athos didn't notice so Porthos stepped in.

"No blaming yourself, squirt. It could happen to any of us, hell, it did happen to all of us, Athos included. Although me and my hard head might be the winners in this competition," he winked ad d'Artagnan, who smiled lightly.

"Porthos is right," Athos agreed, "you have nothing to be ashamed of. After you went down, they made me and Porthos carry you, pointing a gun to Aramis' head instead. They took our weapons, of course, but what they didn't know was that Aramis always keeps a knife hidden in his right boot. As you well know, what Aramis does best is talk, so he started talking about the call of nature. When his talking became unbearable, they let him go take a leak with one man checking on him. He convinced the man that there was a stone stuck in his boot and he can't walk because of it, so the man let him take it out," d'Artagnan looked at Athos in surprise.

"They just let him reach inside his boot?"

"Not only that, he took off the whole boot. The problem was that the sun was already doing its damage on Aramis's thinking, so instead of taking off his right boot, he took off the left one. By the time he realized that, more men were coming their way to see what took them so long. Aramis improvised and attacked the man with the boot and dare I say he would have overpowered him, weren't it for the other two men, who immediately took action and gave him a nice beating."

D'Artagnan's confusion was slowly turning into disbelief and bewilderment.

"Seriously? He attacked him with his boot? I don't know whether to be impressed or horrified."

"Impressed, you should've seen him. Nobody else could make shoe fight seem so elegant," Porthos said proudly, turning his head and trying to look at Aramis.

"Naturally, they found the weapon in Aramis' other boot and decided to take all our shoes to be certain that none of us sported the same hobby in a shoe armory," Athos explained with a smirk in his voice.

After a long silent pause, d'Artagnan's brained suggested that he should probably learn a few more things about their situation. If only the headache and the fog in his mind went away!

"Do we know who our captors are and what they want?"

Porthos chuckled. "Stupid's what they are. Just some common thieves trying to get a fortune without proper work. Nothing to do with our mission, they didn't even search us properly, so both letters are safely tucked under our uniforms. They just want money, nothing else. When they realized Musketeer job wasn't as well paid as they thought it was, they just left us to roast in the bloody sun and left."

"I wonder what they want to do with us, they are thieves, yes, but no killers," Athos said pensively.

"They probably want to take use us for ransom, which is even more stupid," a fourth voice suddenly joined the conversation. Porthos was immediately alert. "Aramis! Are you back or do I need to smack your face in the dirt again?"

"At ease, Porthos. A number has been done on my face today, one more and ladies of whole Paris will be in mourning for the rest of their lives."

Athos smiled. "Welcome back, brother." Aramis smiled back.

D'Artagnan sighed, making the other three look at him.

"Nice to see you too d'Artagnan," Aramis smirked and looked overly cheerful.

"How come I always miss the Sunny day Aramis? I'm beginning to think you are just making fun of me and no such thing actually happens."

"You know what, squirt?" Porthos shook his head in d'Artagnan's direction. "For the rest of the summer, you can take Aramis and I'll be paired up with Athos, we'll see how you believe us then."

D'Artagnan felt a feeling of dread wash over him. "I-…"

"Surely you don't mean that, Porthos. Just imagine the trouble they would get to with both of their magnets combined."

"Athos, you are right brother. I am willing to bare with Sunny day Aramis, for the sake of France."

"More like for the sake of the world."

"For the sake of our mother Earth."

"For the sake of our universe."

"Aramis?"

"Yes, d'Artagnan?"

"Should we feel offended?"

"They're just jealous we get to have all the fun, cherish it." And that was Aramis he knew there, with a Cheshire cat smirk and twinkle in his eyes (not that he could see any of it from his point of view but he knew his brother well enough to imagine what his facial expression would be like).

"Truly Aramis, are you feeling well?" Athos asked with a sincere and rare concern in his voice.

"I believe I am feeling better than d'Artagnan at the moment, judging by the minor concussion he has according to the size of that headwound. Unless you fall asleep now, d'Art, you should be fine, though. There is one thing, gentlemen, that you have forgotten to consider." Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan all looked at each other.

"And what is that?"

"First, the sun is almost completely done, so I should be back to my normal charming self completely in a few more hours. Second, some of our captors are ready to go sleep so they will not be attending to us this night. Third, I have a knife hidden in my uniform. Let's wait for dark and get out of here, shall we?"

 _Four hours later._

*THUD*

"Oooph"

"Come on Porthos, just roll over me."

"I am trying!"

"Try harder!"

"Oooph"

"Not that hard, you're crushing me. Porthos, I c-can't b-brea-"

"Oooph"

*GASP*

"Thank lord, you are such an ogre, did you know that? Can't you be gentle for once in your life?"

"You said harder, besides, I rolled over, didn't I? Your turn now."

"Hold your mouth shut, observe and learn how to roll over with elegance."

"Porthos, Aramis, I am losing my patience. Both of you shut your mouths and roll over to us!"

"Oh you have no idea, what you're getting yourself into, dear Athos."

"It's going to be dawn before they roll over here. I think I might fall asleep."

"NO SLEEPING D'ARTAGNAN!"

*THUD*

 _One hour later_

"No, more to the right. Yes, that's it, continue this way, exactly there, yes, that's good, Athos, very good, you are doing good. No, what did I say? The same direction! Now you have to go back and go a bit further up."

"I swear to god, if you tell anyone of this…"

"Tell anyone what? That you had your hand shoved in Aramis' pants while he gave you instructions where to touch him? For the sake of your lives, I am definitely not telling anyone this. Fr the sake of my fun, you Athos, will be hearing that a lot from me."

"Oh come one Porthos, he is literally saving our lives here. We should be more generous, thankful and respectful to our great saviour! Long live the Hands Down the Pants lord!"

"D'Artagnan, are you aware that I am holding a knife to your nether regions right now?"

 _Half an hour later while sneaking through the woods to get back the horses, weapons and shoes._

"Porthos?"

"Yes Aramis?"

"How's your black mamma doing?"


End file.
